Who Looks Good in Drag
by Her Majesty of Pluto
Summary: When a few of the Beyblade boys starts a discussion about some other Beyblade boys and women's clothing, subconscious desires surface and secrets reveal, albeit to the clueless.


**Disclaimer: **I do not own Beyblade (bless the anime for existing), nor any of the characters from it. I do not write this for monetary gains.

**Author Notes: **This is an incredibly random piece about some Beyblade guys discussing which other guy will look good in women's clothing. I was and always will be a Tyson fangirl, so yeah. That speaks a lot. And just to add, I do not mean any rudeness towards drag queens or cross-dressers. I frankly don't see anything wrong in being either and I ADORE _Adventures of Priscilla: Queen of the Desert _(it's a roadtrip movie about drag queens) to bits. I hope you like it!

**Warnings: **Guys revealing subconscious things. A few pairings evident, but whether they are together or not is largely ambiguous. However, the most direct pairings here are Tyson x Kai and Tala x Bryan.

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**Who Looks Good In Drag**

Sometimes there were strange occasions where some of the most unlikely of guys were thrown together in a room, the weather throwing a tantrum, and where there was little to do, no outlet for any other activity save to sit and while the time away.

"Damn!" Tala Ivanov cursed, turning onto his back where he was sprawled amidst a messy arrangement of cushions on the floor of the hotel where a whole group of beybladers were staying during their little holiday getaway.

Outside, the rain pattered harder onto the window panes and a nasty streak of lightning ran a zigzag which ripped the dark clouds apart so forcefully as if Zeus himself had cast it down to punish them. Tala, not known by many to be a groaner, groaned. Bryan, who was sitting close by his head cast him a sympathetic look and a rueful smile before looking out at the rain. One would think them, being natives of Russia, used to imprisonment from the occasional snow storm would take a little better to a rain storm. Not in the tropics you don't. Not when you have all these plans on doing things outdoors. Yes, even the coolest beyblade guys need to loosen their shoulders a little behind the scenes. Extra security has been employed to keep the fangirls, all foaming at the mouth, at bay. What better time to simply sit back and REALLY relax. But no, it HAD to rain.

Robert could not focus on his book for all the thunder and the groaning that came with it, so he had taken to setting it aside—Charlotte Bronte's _Jane Eyre _no less—and simply staring out at the rain, thinking what a terrible thing it was to lock Bertha Mason up in the attic like that. Mad she may be, but send her to a madhouse, silly Rochester! A decent madhouse would do nicely for the poor woman. Robert could not help but feel like Bertha Mason in that room. Enrique and Johnny fared no better. Enrique tried his hand at chess with the latter and the game ended up forlornly forgotten.

Michael, having no baseball to toss in between his palms made do with a crumpled ball of paper, absently transferring it from one palm to another and back again. Ray watched him for a while before turning back to reading that page in the magazine for the umpteenth time. Even Rick it seemed had tire of the songs on his stereo.

Kai was Kai; trying to stifle the yawn that was coming even as he stood leaning against a far wall with his arms crossed.

"You know," Tala's voice came suddenly, rather more of a lazy drawl but exciting enough to make everyone look and for Kai's yawn to die in his throat. "I wonder which guy we know in this hotel would look good in drag."

"I've seen you in women's clothes before," Bryan spoke up as if it was the most obvious answer expected. "_You_ look pretty hot."

Tala sat up quickly and gave him a slap upside his head. "You don't have to tell them that."

Rick chuckled at this.

"I know you guys are queer, but didn't know you could be kinky," he told them.

Tala was quick to go on the offensive. "Couldn't I?"

Rick shrugged easily and settled into a large beanie. Sinking back into it he said, "I personally think Garland might look good in drag."

"Garland? I thought Brooklyn might make a better drag queen," put in Tala, turning onto his stomach to look at Rick properly. "You know, all orange and shimmery, with high arching eyebrows and his hair gelled up into a little question mark? I could imagine him on top of the bus in _Adventures of Priscilla: Queen of the Desert_."

"I adore that movie!" Robert spoke up excitedly, not seeing the wide-eyed stare of disbelieve that he was getting from the others in the room. "I have watched it sooooo many times!"

Being the first to recover, Michael said, "Garland will make quite a drag queen…but he's too muscular."

"Drag queens can be muscular. I think I know a boxer once and he comes to school in dresses everyday. Of course, he changes before a match," said Johnny, glad for something interesting to talk about. "By the way, don't you think Oliver will look pretty good in a dress? Like those worn during the Elizabethan era? [1] Pretty hot stuff, especially if you can crawl in under the skirts."

When Enrique suddenly kicked his shin under the table, a scowl evident on his face, he cussed and cried, "What was that for? I thought you're straight!"

"I see someone is in denial!" Tala piped up seeing Enrique's sudden reaction and his silence after Johnny's rhetoric. "And having the hots for a certain Frenchman too!"

"French boy more like it," Johnny hissed, glaring at Enrique, his new-found love rival.

Michael had not been listening to the exchange, but he had been thinking seriously over which of the beyblade guys (who were obviously and conveniently not in the room) would look good in a tight shirt and a mini-skirt.

"Max," he decided finally, visualizing the blonde in said clothes and great, adorable puppy dog eyes in place, stretched on a bed, legs spread…with long hair (extensions) all spread about his face on the pillow. He found himself smirking to the thought and getting pretty hot under the collars.

"Excuse me?" Ray demanded suddenly, his head whipping up from the magazine page to which his eyes had only lingered after Enrique's outburst.

"Max," Michael replied, opening his arms out in a gesture of it's-so-duh. "He will look severely fuckable in a tight shirt, silicone in place and a mini-skirt. That guy looks so damn innocent!"

Ray was indignant. How could he! "I rather think that Max will look nicer in something more modest, like the clothes girls at my village wear for instance."

"Wet from just getting out of a waterfall," Michael drawled lustily. "Yeah, I will like that very much. You know, I have always wanted to catch that blonde in the shower or something…hahahahaha! But I never had a chance because he is always so icky about shared showers."

"With perverts like you, who wouldn't be?" Ray remarked, his voice darkening into almost a snarl. His hands were itching to sock Michael DOWN THERE, break IT perhaps too.

Michael spun around and stared at Ray who had gotten back to his magazine, holding it up really high in order to hide the blush that had spread across his tanned face. Despite feeling the stare and the rising tension, Ray kept valiant attention to the magazine page, not comprehending the words or making much sense of the pictures he sees.

"So you think you can take my Maxie away from me?" he heard Michael ask in a voice that promised trouble if he answered in the positive.

Ray, no matter how furiously he may have blushed, was never one to back away from a battle no matter what the form. He slapped the magazine down onto the lush, carpeted floor and returned Michael's stare levelly.

"So what if I am?" (_And he's not YOUR Maxie._)

Michael lifted and pointed it like a gun ending just inches away from Ray's forehead. He smirked.

"Then you can't win," he answered, the smirk never leaving his face once.

It would have turned into a nasty fist-fight if Robert had not spoken again to surprise everyone. He didn't seem to be paying attention to the exchanges that would have turned into two separate brawls on a languid, rainy day. In fact, Robert had been far, far away since the discussion had taken its turn to that extend, and since exposed some things that had remained hidden within the young men for Heaven knows how long. He had his eyes cast out the window, paying no attention to his own image reflected in the glass.

"I sincerely think Tyson would look very nice in drag, not that he doesn't already look nice the way he is."

That was what Robert said that brought everyone to their (manly, rationale) senses.

Now, where had Kai been all this while? He had not left. He had actually stayed to listen. He had his reasons…and so far he had been relieved. Garland, Brooklyn, Max…those were fine…until Robert spoke up and he found himself stiffening, found his ears perking up to catch what Robert was going to say next.

Lately, Kai had been a little disturbed by how…attractive Tyson had grown. It took him a while to understand why there were times he wanted so badly to stuff Tyson back into his old yellow T-shirt, red jacket and cap gear. At least he'd look dorkier that way, and no one would think him hot…or handsome or anything. He had been handsome before…but now that he's taller, his hair longer and neater…and that he liked to wear these pull-on shirts with wide necks under his jacket (still red, at least it gave some level of consolation to Kai), he was starting to feel so unnerved. He had not gotten, at first, why he felt this need to stare down any man or woman who looked at Tyson, and why it annoyed him to no end that Tyson was so oblivious to everything besides food, beyblade and those murder novels he had suddenly taken to reading. Yet, every time he made his annoyance known, pretty much known from the slight furrow of his eyebrows, all Tyson could do was look up at him and ask, so goddamn innocently, "Is something wrong, Kai?"

_Wrong? Wrong? You want to know what's wrong? That all these people are looking at you. Those girls in the fast food place over there…that guy in the white jacket over there… That's what's wrong, you fool!_

No, Kai didn't tell him that. He only gave his usual, "Hn", and looked some place else. Anywhere was perhaps safer than at that face, those eyes, at those lips. Then Tyson had to shrug and had to teasingly ask him if he wanted to take a look in the house of condoms. Why was he out with Tyson in the shopping district anyway? Oh yes, because Tyson wanted to clean the bookstore out of all its copies of murder mysteries, and Kai had been stupid enough to accept his invitation to join him, surprising the both of them.

"Now that you mention it…" Tala drawled, subtly casting a look at Kai who still remained at his spot against the wall, as he rubbed his chin knowingly. "Tyson _does _look nice in drag. What do you think, Bryan?"

Bryan had dozed off by then.

Tala nudged him with his foot and snorted. "Worthless. I don't even know why I am with this guy."

"Tyson eh?" this time it was Johnny rubbing his chin and grinning. "I quite like the thought. He _does _have the MOST amazing hair I have ever seen."

"Yeah," Enrique added, seeing that the tension was well out of the way. "Perhaps Tyson would look superb in a dress…like the one Catherine Zeta-Jones wore in _Zorro_. His skin _is _to die for."

"And you said you are straight?" Johnny jibed, narrowing his eyes at the other.

Or maybe not…and their glaring started again.

Michael leaned back into his seat and thought about it. Rick thought about it too.

"Tyson will make a very pretty drag," Rick said, crossing his arms. "But I will go with Max anytime."

"HEY!"—that was Ray.

"I will go with Max anytime too," Michael put in, nestling the back of his head into his palms. "But if you think about it, Tyson will look perfect in drag. Imagine him in a halter-neck top with a LOT of mid-riff bared…and short, short, short Daisy Dukes…on the hood of a car, his cute ass up in the air."

Kai did not notice how his nails were digging into the flesh of his upper arm, only how Michael's throat would look good with a red ribbon tied around it to mark the line where the guillotine should descend and behead him.

"He has an awesome ass…and him in those shorts…I could get a hard on just thinking about it…"

That was it, in Kai's books Michael Parker was going to die and his baseball career along with him.

"No, I would rather see Tyson, if he wants to perform drag at all, in something decent…like a high-collared blouse tucked into a long, long skirt with his hair tied back into a ribbon," Robert put in.

"Man, I always knew you are refined, Robert," Enrique said, turning to look at his fellow team mate. "But why with all the decency?"

At this point Robert turned his attention to the others. There was a strange look in his eyes, something almost predatory. The guys had to admit that it frightened them in a way, well all except Kai who was already feeling murderous.

"Simple," Robert began with a glint in those eyes. "It makes undressing him all the more pleasurable."

Kai have had enough. He pushed himself off the wall and stalked…out of the room, slamming the door behind him as he went. Everyone stared after him.

"What's with him?" Johnny asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"PMS," Michael said with a smirk. "You all know Kai."

Tala was silently gloating, and at the same time hoping that was all the trigger his cold friend needed. Ray smiled inwardly too. There was some hope in the reaction. Why would Kai get so (visibly) upset about the things these guys were thinking in relation to the younger blader? Robert's little reaction was something else. He positively glared through Kai's back as the latter left and even after the door was shut behind him. He had found a rival…a very bitter one.

Kai could not stay in that room any longer. He never thought anything anyone said would affect him so much. If they had said things about him, he probably wouldn't care, but the things they were talking about…the way some of them thought about Tyson…and Robert! Robert for a fact shared the same feelings he did and if Kai was sure of anything, it was that Robert was not someone he cared enough for to be giving up Tyson.

He knew then what some guys were thinking…Michael was an obvious pervert and Robert was into that refined sort of seduction, but as for himself…what would he want Tyson to perform drag in? He didn't know. All the time the guys were talking, he had not even thought about it…he had only seen Tyson dressed as himself—a blossoming young man—and that was enough for him. That was distracting enough.

He wasn't specifically thinking of finding himself in the room that Tyson, Max and Kenny shared but he found himself before the door, his fists clenched at his sides. A hand unclenched and found the doorknob, turned it and swung the door open with so much force that it slammed against the wall. The three young men were inside—Kenny typing away (as usual), Max all sprawled among cushions on his stomach watching T.V, and Tyson…was sitting on the bed, reading a murder novel with one hand playing with some loose strands of his hair. The bluenette looked so comfortable that Kai felt like jumping him then. But no, he had things he wanted to say to Tyson…

"Kenny, Max…out."

At the sound of his voice, Tyson looked up to see Kai standing in the threshold, looking fit to kill anyone…and the book he was reading _did _have something of that sort. Apparently, the killer (Tyson had read the book before) was this man who was in love with his best friend and rival in tennis, but killed that friend for the sole reason that they couldn't be together and he didn't want anyone else being with him. Seeing Kai's face like that, he wondered if perhaps he was going to suffer the same fate for he didn't know what reason.

"Kai?" he managed to stammer as his friends sidled frightfully out of the room. "Is something the matter?"

He watched with rising concern as Kai calmly shut the door behind them and locked it. He stood facing the door, not daring to turn to Tyson just yet. He did not even have a plan as to what he was going to do when he met Tyson and had him alone. Heck, he didn't even know what he was doing there in the first place.

Finally, taking in a deep breath, he let his hand fall from the doorknob and turned to face Tyson, carefully shielding his eyes behind a curtain of slate-grey hair.

"Tyson…you would not, by any chance, be thinking of cross-dressing would you?"

The book slipped from Tyson's hand as he stared at his friend from across the room. He was stunned speechless for a long, long time (a thing that had never happened before).

Then he burst out laughing.

"Kai!" he cried out, doubling over on the bed, eyes already teary with laughter. "Why…w…why are you asking such a thing?"

Kai was glad for Tyson laughing so hard that he had his eyes closed. He wouldn't want to have to answer the question of why he was blushing so furiously. It was almost maddening how Tyson was taking things so lightly. Of course, how was Tyson to know the kinds of fantasies some perverts (-cough-Robert-cough-) were having of him?

"Fine," he managed to say eventually, mustering all the indifference he possessed. "But in case you are thinking of it…stay AWAY from Daisy Dukes, skimpy halter tops, high-collared blouses and long skirts, got it?"

Kai sounded so serious that Tyson was jerked right out of his laughing.

"Kai?"

"It may not seem like anything important to you, but it is, to…"—Kai paused—"some of us."

Turning away and reaching for the door, he added a little softly, "So stay away from those things."

Kai unlocked the door and let himself out. Kenny and Max, who had not left at all but only listened to the conversation at the door, quickly straightened up and made huge pretense of innocence. Kai glared at them for a moment while still standing in the threshold, increasing their level of discomfort, before stalking off. Max had a strange feeling that Kai's gaze was particularly focused on him rather than on Kenny. Just in case, he looked down at his fly to make sure...

"Man! Was Kai weird today!" Tyson cried the moment he saw his friends re-enter.

"Yeah," Max replied, plopping onto the bed beside Tyson. "What did he talk to you about? We couldn't really hear from outside."

"He told me to stay away from Daisy Dukes, halter tops, blouses…and I forgot the last one…if I want to cross-dress." Seeing that he was met with only blank stares from his two companions, he shrugged his own incomprehension at them and added, "I don't know why he even brought it up! I am not planning on becoming a cross-dresser or anything."

"And what are Daisy Dukes anyway?" Max asked, getting out of the bed and going back to the T.V.

Again, Tyson shrugged. "I don't know. A brand of perfume maybe?"

"Sounds more like detergent," Kenny put in, eyes glued once more to the computer screen.

"Hey guys!" Max called out to them. "Look! They are showing _Adventures of Priscilla: Queen of the Desert_ on cable T.V!"

**-Finis-**

Footnotes:

[1] Women of rank during this era wore bustles to create those big skirts effect. Sometimes, the bustles can make the skirt so wide that the women had to pass through doors sideways. Johnny have some very specific fantasies here.


End file.
